For the Sake of Living
by RionahAnha
Summary: Because behind every smile, there is a story waiting to be told. A series of one shots, encompassing a variety of characters. T for later chapters.
1. Bachelors and Brothers

It was supposed to be a quiet affair, originally.

"It'll be just us, right?" Ron stood before his dresser mirror, nervously adjusting his necktie for what seemed to be the dozenth time since he had put it on three minutes ago.

Harry, fully dressed and sprawled spread eagle on the bed behind him, his head hanging upside down off of the side of, sighed. "Not just _us_," he drawled. His glasses were sliding off of his nose towards the floor, and he pushed them back into place with one finger. "Your brothers- and Neville and Dean and maybe Seamus, if he can get in-"

"He better bloody _get in_," Ron growled. He tore the tie off os his neck and heaved it against the wall. "I'm getting married tomorrow, for Merlin's sake. Married-"

The door popped open suddenly, banging against the wall and startling both Ron and Harry. They turned as Bill's head peeked around the doorjamb. "Almost ready, Ronnie?"

"Yes, _Ronnie_," George shouted from somewhere behind Bill, in the depths of the attic stairway. "Wouldn't want to be late for your own bachelor party, would you, Ronniekins?"

Ron shot Harry a look of undisguised irritation. "Does _he_ have to come?"

"I'm afraid so," Harry replied ruefully, standing. "He's paying."

When they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, Ron was frightened to see that quite a gathering preceded him. Besides Dean and Neville, there was a collection of other Hogwarts alumni, many that Ron hadn't seen in years. Ernie MacMillian, Thomas Corner, Dennis Creevey- the list of faces piled on. All were drinking and gave a raucous cheer as Ron entered, lifting their glasses towards the rafters. Old Tom shuffled forwards to press a mug of bubbling firewhiskey into his hands. "It's on the house," he grinned, and George snorted.

"No, it's not. It's on me." He elbowed Ron, spilling some of teh drink, and tousled his hair. "Nothing but the best for my little brother on his last night of freedom." The men cheered again, Neville knocked over a chair, Ron choked down a sip of his drink- and the night began.

It was an unremembered slew of jokes and stories and laughter and round after round of drinks. George bandied about his latest invention; Dean Thomas taught them a Muggle drinking game; Charlie sang a song in slurred Romanian about loose change and bawdy witches; Neville and Harry retold old DA stories. A blustered Seamus Finnegan arrived late, spinning out of the fireplace and into a table with a short scream of "Congratulations, Weasley!"

More men arrived as the night drew on. Cormac McLaggen swaggered in and presented Ron with a silver tankard, inscribed with "King Weasley", much to the delight of George and to Ron's uncomfortable embarrassment. Justin Finch-Fletchley came with Zacharias Smith, both already tipsy and followed by a somber Rolf Scamander, whom Ron barely knew but greeted warmly, if only for Luna's sake. Jordan Lee, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot- the list went on and on. Tom, refilling Ron's new tankard despite his protestations, told him slyly,"Closed this place down fer t'night, yer brothers did."

"They did?" Ron asked weakly, and Tom winked.

"It's a big event, when your littlest brother gets married," he said. He threw Harry, at the bar and doing a fairly decent impersonation of old Professor Flitwick, a shrewd look. "I expect we'll have to do this again soon, won't we?"

Ron, uncomfortable aware that he had consumed much more alchohal than he usually did, shrugged, and Tom laughed. "An induction of sorts, aye?"

"No," Ron answered fiercely. "Harry's already inducted - he's been a Weasley for years now."

Tom only offered him a cocked, tight lipped smile and moved on. Ron took his cue and mingled among the crowds, feeling increasingly light headed and sick as he went on. He stopped to listen to a few of Neville's Hogwarts tales and to tell a few of his own, though the words tangled on his tongue and the pictured memories were hazy in his head. Seamus Finnegan sidled up beside him and hooked an arm around his neck. "When do the ladies arrive?" He asked in a slur, and the group around him chortled appreciatively. "Y'did invite t'ladies, din't ye?"

"Of course not," Ron said, clear headed for the first time that night. "No. I'd never do that to Hermione."

"Glad to hear it," someone said in his ear. He turned to find Harry at his shoulder, wearing a crooked grin and a slightly glassy look in his eyes. As their friends laughed uproariously at Ron's stodginent defense of Hermione, Harry took hold of his elbow and lead him away, towards the door. "Come on. It's getting hot in here."

"Getting?" Ron echoed, and Harry threw him a wry grin as he shouldered open the door and pulled Ron out it.

It was cool outside. Ron stood underneath a flickering lamppost in Muggle London and took a deep, shaky breath. "Thanks."

Harry shrugged. "Don't mention it." He stepped up beside Ron, his hands in his pockets. "Feel up to a walk?"

They started down the deserted sidewalk, side by side. Ron, concentrating hard on the cracks in the sidewalks, which seemed determine to jump up at him as soon as he looked away, asked, "You know where you're going, right?"

Harry offered him a raised eyebrow. "Does it matter?" He inquired airily. "We can always Apparate back." He stumbled suddenly over a curb and Ron caught him with a roar of laughter.

"Right," he chuckled. "Great idea, mate. Bloody brilliant, you are."

Harry shook Ron's arm off, smirking. "Sod off."

They walked a few more blocks in silence, their hands swinging loose at their sides and collars turned up against the night air. After a long while, Harry said, very suddenly, "Can you believe it?"

Ron threw him a sideways look. "Sort of." He was quiet, and Harry grinned at him.

"I almost never would have thought- after all of those fights and-"

"I get it," Ron said gruffly. He stopped walking and dropped, very unceremoniously to the curbside. "Who'd have thought she'd pick me?" He held his hands out before him. In the gritty light of the lamppost, they were shaking, his fingers clammy and grey. He tried to imagine what his left hand would look like with a ring on it.

"That's not what I meant." Harry sat down beside him, folding his knees up into a tent beneath his chin. "I mean- sometimes it just feels so surreal. I guess I just keep thinking, lately, about the first time we all met, on the train-"

"And she made fun of me for that stupid spell the twins taught me." Ron shook his head. "And her, her-'You've got some dirt, on your nose-'"

Harry threw back his head and laughed. "'Have you seen a toad?'" He warbled in a ridiculously high falsetto. "'Neville here has lost one-'"

"'Have you read all of the textbooks yet?'" Ron snorted, and Harry nudged him.

"She didn't say that."

"She may as well have," Ron countered. He buried his chin in his arms, his shoulders hunched against a sudden wind. "She was such a nosy prat- a _know it all_."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Was?"

"Well," Ron corrected, "She still is. But it's more tolerable now."

"I hope so," Harry replied, "Seeing as your about to be stuck with her for the rest of your life."

"Not so much stuck." An automobile turned the corner, and Ron ducked his head to avoid the illuminating headlights. "I like to think of it as sticking."

Harry shook his head, smiling softly. "However you want to look at it, mate." He leaned backwards, his hands pressed into the gritty concrete of the sidewalk. "It's funny how things've worked out, isn't it?"

Ron nodded, closing his eyes. He could still see Hermione, sitting in front of him in some nameless class, skinny and bushy haired, her hand clawing frantically at the air above her head. "Yeah," he said with a slight smile. "Yeah. I never would have thought, in a million years, that annoying Hermione Granger would ever become-"

"Not so annoying?" Harry smirked, and Ron shook his head.

"No, you prat. My- my wife, I guess?"

"You guess?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Might want to sort that out before four o'clock tomorrow afternoon, mate." He chortled suddenly. "Imagine - imagine if you'd stayed with Lavender..."

Ron choked. "Bloody hell, Harry! How can you even _say _that?"

Harry grinned sneakily. "You haven't still got that lovely necklace, do you? It might be easier to put on than that bloody tie-"

Ron punched his arm. "Stuff it. Of course I don't have it."

"What 'd you do with it?" Harry leered. "I thought it was rather striking on you, myself-"

"I gave it to a garden gnome." Ron gave him a bleak look. "I might've fed it to the basilisk- I don't really know. Does it even matter?"

Harry shrugged carelessly. "As long as it's gone, I suppose not." He let his head loll backwards, his eyes half shut beneath his glasses. "Do you know what I thought about, earlier today, when we were getting ready?"

"Hmm?"

"The Mirror of Erised." He sharpened one eye to Ron, who was offering him a bemused expression. "I mean, what we saw in it that night. My parents-"

"Me as Head Boy. A Quidditch star-"

"Do you think we would've been disappointed if we saw what we ended up wanting- what we became- what we are now?"

"You mean, instead of what we thought we might have wanted then?" Ron shrugged. "Maye a little - but it's better, right? I mean, being Head Boy would have been bloody _awful_. Prefect was bad enough."

Harry shook his head. "It would have been hard to keep up with the responsibility, you know, on the hunt for Horcruxes-"

"And on the run from Voldemort-"

"-and well... you know." Harry shrugged, still smiling a little, and Ron was suddenly overcome with a feeling of nostalgia so thick that he thought he might choke on it.

"I never really thought about it, but - I guess I just never thought that day at King's Cross was so bloody important. I mean, everyone was always telling me the first day is the most important, that that's when you make friends and enemies for the next seven years..." He nudged Harry's shoulder with his own. "I guess I just never really thought that the Boy-Who-Lived was going to share his Chocolate Frogs with me- or, you know, stand in at my wedding."

"Or marry your sister?" Harry cocked an eyebrow at him. "Weird how we can talk about things like this- about our _futures. _Remember when we used to go to sleep at night, wondering if we were going to be alive to wake up the next morning?"

Ron sombered. "Yeah," he said softly. Then, after a long minute, he said, "Do you know what my favorite memory of that day is?"

"What?"

"On the train, when Malfoy came into the compartment and you-"

"I didn't shake his hand?" Harry smiled, but it was small, as if the memory cost him something. "I don't know why you're keeping on about that. It was the easiest decision I think I've ever made."

He grinned, and Ron grinned back. "I hope you still feel that way tomorrow, when you've got to give that best man speech in front of half the wizarding community of Britain."

Harry grimaced. "As long as I don't have to give it until after the drinks have been served, I'll be fine."

"And if it's not?"

Harry pursed his lips. "It'd still be allright," he said slowly, a teasing edge to his voice. "I mean, if it's for you."

Ron smiled, and all of the nerves that had plagued him for weeks now seemed to melt into a puddle at his feet. He looked at his wristwatch. "Do you think they've noticed we're missing yet?"

Harry scoffed. "Drunk as they are? No." But he stood anyways, holding his hand out to Ron. "We should head back anyways. Bill's got a hell of a surprise waiting for you."

Ron took his hand and stood with a grimace. "I don't supposed there's any chance we could miss it, is there?"

"I don't think so. He's been waiting to do this an awfully long time."

"How long?"

Harry paused, then shrugged. "Does it really matter?"

"...I suppose not."

Harry smiled, and Ron smiled back as he buttoned his coat. Together, they headed back to the inn. 


	2. A Proper Witch

Thanks to those of you who reviewed and favorited! Here's hoping that you enjoy this next installment!

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The screen door slammed shut.

Roxanne Weasley, her messy brown curls caught up in a ponytail and her eyes flashing dangerously, stormed barefoot across the yard, her red rubber boots swinging from one hand and the other curled around her parka. It would have made more sense to wear both articles of clothing, as it was raining, but _Grandma _had just told her to dress warmly, and she was determined to catch cold out of sheer spite.

As if on cue, the kitchen door to the Burrow snapped open behind her and Molly, her arms full of baby Freddy, called after her. "Roxanne, dear - put your jacket on." She paused. "And your boots!"

Roxanne stomped through a particularly swampy puddle. It splashed up her shins, and she took a moment to step back into it and jump.

"Roxie- Roxanne Weasley! Put your jacket-"

Roxanne threw boots as hard as she could, dropped her parka into the puddle, and fled across the garden, hopping rows of glistening vegetables and surprised gnomes, her grandmother's increasingly cross admonishments fading away behind her. She reached the edge of the garden and, taking a moment to kick rather savagely at a gnome, clambered over the crumbling stone wall that seperated the back garden from the fields. She swamped through another puddle, struggled through a slag of wet weeds, and collapsed at the base of the crooked oak, panting, wet, and furious.

She huddled closer to the trunk, her knees to her chest, and wished sourly that Grandma hadn't told her to wear her coat. She would have welcomed the warmth, and she briefly toyed with the idea of going back and fetching it, but her pride - and dread for the scolding she was sure awaited her- kept her where she was.

She picked idely at a scab on her knee as she sat. She supposed that she would have to go back eventually. It would be dark in a few hours, and Grandma Molly would be very put out if she had to come searching for her through mud puddles and angry gnomes.

_Serves her right,_ Roxanne thought angrily. Four days at the Burrow, and all she'd done was _nag._ "Roxie, dear, sit up straight, you're at the table-" "Roxanne, those pants are filthy. Would you mind changing?" "Roxanne, you really mustn't shout so- you're inside, and besides, young ladies do not use language like that."

It did no good to tell her grandmother that she didn't care. She was perfectly content to have a bad posture at the table - it was only the Burrow, for Merlin's sake- and she didn't mind in the slightest that she dirtied her clothes quite often. And as far as her language- well, it wasn't as if she'd learned to speak that way on her own. She _was _the neice of Ron Weasley, after all. And a young lady? She'd rather be a Squib!

Still, she thought with some regret, she oughtn't have been quite so rude. Storming out and throwing her clothes about the garden was probably not her best choice of action. Not only was her grandmother undoubtedly furious, but her parents wouldn't be so thrilled when they came home tomorrow to hear of it. George Weasley might not care about slouching at dinner time or ripped jeans, but disrespect was one thing he didn't tolerate- at all.

She was pulled from her revelry by a skittering of stones and a hearty grunt. She peered around the trunk of the tree to see her uncle Charlie hauling himself over the wall, cursing as he tripped over a loose stone. He looked up, catching sight of her, and she turned away quickly, burying her head in her arms as she approached.

For a minute, he was quiet. She knew that he was standing right in front of her, but she didn't speak. After a long moment, he nudged her leg with his toe. "You've got a bit of dirt, there, Annie."

She grunted. "I know."

He was quiet again, then he sighed. She poked her head up to watch him lower himself to the ground in front of her, tucking his long legs beneath him and wiping his muddied palms on his thighs. He caught her looking and grinned. "Got a little dirty, climbing that wall." She didn't reply, and he heaved another sigh. "I've come to fetch you back, you know." She shrugged and he continued, "Mum's not very happy with you."

"I know."

"Just thought I'd warn you-"

"I _know._"

He frowned at her. "What's wrong with you, hmm?" She felt her face burn, but she forced it back, grateful for her dark skin- the unavoidable Weasley blush was much less noticeable underneath it.

Charlie leaned forward and tapped her knee. "I asked you a question, Annie, sweets. What's bothering you?"

She knew that he wouldn't let her alone until she answered, so she shrugged one shoulder. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Charlie gave her a shrewd look, his eyebrows cocked underneath his fringe of red hair. "So you yelled at Freddie- kicked Pig- stormed out of the house- threw your clothes across the garden- and ran away here to hide in the rain- for _nothing_?"

When he put it that way, Roxanne did see the obvious gaping holes in her lie. She pulled at the scab again. "Well, not really..."

"Ah." Charlie sat back, his arms crossed. "I thought as much. Care to talk about it?"

She bit her lower lip. "It's just..." She took a steadying breath. "Grandma is just so- so- _irritating._"

To her great annoyance, Charlie chuckled. "Is she now?" He said, an edge of jest in his voice. "I hadn't noticed."

Ignoring her uncle's joking, Roxanne plunged on. "She's always telling me what to do-"

"Well, she _is _in charge-"

"-and she keeps telling me to be quiet, and to clean up and to act proper and- and - I'm not any pf that!" She threw her arms wide, flicking bits of mud into the air. "I don't _want _to be a proper young lady! There's no fun in that- I don't want to end up some boring, dried out old witch-"

"And that's what Grandma is, is she?"

Roxanne recognized her mistake only a second too late. Backpedaling at the suddenly stern look in her uncle's eye, she amended, "No, no! But she doesn't understand - she's too _proper _to!"

"Doesn't understand what, exactly?"

"Just..." She found herself at a loss for words, so she gave up and sat back against the tree. It was suddenly very cold. Her toes were numb.

Charlie scratched the back of his neck and gave a heavy sigh. "Well, I'm not really sure what to say, Annie, besides that sometimes, we can't always get our way." Roxanne opened her mouth to argue, but Charlie held up one finger, silencing her. "Let me finish, Annie. You don't always get what you want, all the time, regardless of whether or not you want it bad enough to run away for it." He scuffled closer, so that their knees were touching. "Ten years ago, you know, there was a war."

Roxanne rolled her eyes. Of course she knew. "I'm not stupid-"

"And I'm not finished." He wiped a strand of hair off of her cheek with his thumb. "It was a very, _very _hard time. Our friends were being killed, and we had to hide, day and night. There was almost no way of knowing whom we could trust and who we couldn't. But I suppose you know all of that, don't you? Right. Well, anyways, there was a particularly evil witch fighting against us. Her name was Bellatrix Lestrange, and she was Voldemort's right hand woman. She was in the first war, too, when I was a child- she tortured Neville's parents and killed dozens of others- Uncle Harry's godfather- even Teddy's parents, and his mother was her own niece. She captured Uncle Harry and Ron and Aunt Hermione and almost turned them over to Voldemort himself. She was so evil, so bloody _powerful_, that Voldemort gave her a Horcrux to keep safe for him-"

"That Uncle Harry found." Despite herself, Roxanne felt a growing anticipation for the story at hand. She leaned forward, her chin in her hands, and Charlie smiled softly at her eagerness.

"Yes, that Uncle Harry and Ron and Mione found and destroyed. But that's off point. At the last battle-"

"At Hogwarts!"

"At Hpgwarts, yes. Bellatrix Lestrange led the assault on the school. It was a terrible battle- many lives were lost, on all sides..." He fell quiet, and Roxanne was painfully aware of the toll it took him to remember. Nevertheless, he he cleared his throat and went on, a little softer.

"It was at the end, when Harry had given himself up to Voldemort and we all thought that it was all lost, everything we'de been fighting for- there was a duel. Bellatrix Lestrange against Auntie Ginny and Mione and Luna Lovegood." Roxanne stilled, her heart in her throat, and Charlie continued:

"Now, mind you, we'd all been fighting for hours already, and we were tired and hurt and, more than that, we were grieving. And Hermione fell off, and Luna slipped up, and then there was only Ginny left fighting Bellatrix-"

Roxanne gasped.

"- And then Mum jumped in, right between the two, and she fired off a curse- and she killed Bellatrix Lestrange."

Roxanne felt her mouth drop open. "What?"

"Do I need to re-tell the whole thing?"

"Grandma _killed _her? Voldemort's right hand- she _killed _Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Charlie only offered her a raise eyebrow. "Not so bad for a boring, proper, dried-out old witch, is it?"

In the stark silence that followed, Roxanne felt as if her face was literally about to smolder away with shame. She looked away from her uncle's stoic face to the ground. She tried to picture it- her _grandmother_, tied up in her kitchen apron and wellies, killing - _killing!- _one of the most dangerous Death Eaters of all time...

Charlie stood suddenly, brushing at the seat of his pants with his hands. He cast a critical eye to the sky, still sobbing with rain, then looked down. "I supposed you'll be wanting a piggyback ride home, won't you?"

Roxanne said nothing, grateful for his quiet ignorance of her guilt, but she scrambled to her feet and allowed herself to be hoisted onto Charlie's back. He set off, taking long strides across the field, and Roxanne, her face buried in the musty leather of his jacket, grinned a little.

Perhaps there was a little more to this being a proper young witch thing than she had thought. Maybe- just maybe- she would be willing to give it a go.


	3. Three Little Birds Black

Three Little Birds Black

"Cissy- Cissy! Come on!"

Narcissa turned her head. In the muted darkness of her bedroom, she could just make out the shape of her sister's face, perched in the crack of her bedroom door: the sharp jaw; the long, refined nose; the mass of tumbling black curls, pinned away from her face in a sloppy braid. Narcissa threw her coverlet off and scrambled across the floor for her slippers.

"Cissy-"

"I'm coming!" Narcissa rammed her feet into her slippers – pink spun silk from a wizarding village in Northern Polynesia, Mother had said- and crossed the bedroom in a bound. Andromeda pushed the door open wide enough to allow her younger sister's escape, grinning impudently. A few curls slid loose of her braid and swung along the nape of her neck.

"Be quiet," she whispered, taking Narcissa's hand in her own. "Bella's waiting."

They went as silently as they could down the hallway. The mansion was quiet at this time of night, empty of the evening's usual array of unsavory visitors. A few muted murmurings came from the more active portraits and the shuffle of a house elf, preparing the bedrooms for the elderly Blacks, floated out from behind a closed door. Narcissa knew that her father would be in his study, going over finances and smoking, and her mother was downstairs in her drawing room, having her nightly potion and composing letters. This was the time of day that Narcissa liked the best, when all of the world was undisturbed and theirs' for the taking.

Bellatrix waited for them in the shadows of the fourth floor staircase. She sat on the floor in her night dress, back to the wall, twisting locks of her hair into tiny braids. She looked up as they approached and scowled. "Finally."

"I had to find my slippers," Narcissa defended, and Bellatrix rolled her eyes as she stood.

"You don't even _need _ them," she said. "It's the roof."

She turned and headed spryly up the stone stairs. Narcissa shook off Andromeda's hand and followed, racing to draw even with her eldest sister. "It doesn't matter," she retorted. "If your to go out of doors, your to be attractable- _proper_."

"Who's going to see us on the roof?" Bellatrix tossed her head dramatically. "Father? Mum?" Behind them, Andromeda snickered.

"If they catch us on the roof, the last thing I'd be worrying about is whether or not I'm wearing shoes," she said, and Bellatrix threw her a grin over her shoulder.

"We may as well go out naked," she suggested, and Narcissa froze, scandalized.

"You'd _never_," she breathed, and Andromeda crashed into her from behind, laughing.

"Watch us," she teased, pushing her. "Get out of the way, Cissy- we've only got a few minutes."

Several feet ahead, at the bend in the corridor where the bust of Phineas Nigelius Black stood, Bellatrix had stopped. She yanked the heavy draperies of their designated window aside and, standing on tiptoe, undid the window clasps. "Help me with the sash, Andy," she demanded, and Andromeda hurried to her side. Together, they pushed the cumbersome window outwards, where they creaked softly in the wind. Bellatrix turned to share a triumphantly toothy grin with Andromeda, and Nacrissa was struck, as she often was, by just how bloody alike they were-

"I'll go first," Bellatrix declared. She was already straddling the windowsill in a very unladylike position, her nightdress hitched up around her skinny thighs. "And then send Cissy, Andy. If Lucifer comes looking, tell him he's to come with us, or I'll cut off the tips of his ears." She smiled a particularly wicked smile in response to Andromeda's horrified face, then swung her leg over the sill and disappeared from sight. Narcissa took only a moment to abandon her shiny pink slippers behind Phineaus' base before hoisting herself up onto the window frame and following suit.

She found herself tottering dangerously on the thin lip of molding that bordered the fifth floor windows. She pressed herself against the sill at her back, her eyes screwed shut against the troublingly wide open space before her-

"Cissy! Come on now- take my hand!"

Narcissa forced an eye open. Several feet away, her bare feet clinging easily to the sloping roof shingles, Bellatrix stretched out her arm. Narcissa reached over and grabbed it.

In a matter of seconds, she was crouched beside her sister, the slanting grey slate cold beneath her feet, watching as Andromeda slithered out of the window, as graceful and brave as a phoenix taking flight. She joined them on the rooftop after closing the windows at Bellatrix's request – "Don't forget the bloody windows, Andy!"- and then they were on their way, bent double as they climbed the roof, sliding gently down peaks, their nightgowns gathered about their waists and their hair tangling in the night wind. Finally, they were at their spot - the gentle crilll between the owlery turret and the peak of the house elves' attic room. Andromeda and Bellatrix reclined immediately. Narcissa shunted to the edge and peered down, dizzy with the height of it.

"How far is the ground?" She asked, and Bellatrix snorted.

"Too far. Come away from the edge, Cissy – I'm afraid my cushioning charm isn't quite up to par yet."

"It isn't up to anything," Andromeda remarked wrily as Narcissa skipped over to join them. "You haven't got a wand, Bella."

"_Yet. _I haven't got a wand _yet,_" Bellatrix emphasized. She had a dreamy, half shut expression on her face, Narcissa saw as she wriggled her way in between her two sisters. "Father's going to take me next week to Ollivander's. He says I mustn't go to school unprepared. I'll need to start off ahead if I'm to remain ahead."

Narcissa laced her fingers into a web behind her head, cushioning it against the roof shingles. Bellatrix was going to Hogwarts in just five months. She was ever so jealous.

"Do you think you"ll be in Slytherin?" She asked lightly, and Bellatrix rolled over to burn her with a smoldering look.

"Of course I'll be in Slytherin," she said darkly. "I'm not about to start consorting about with Mudbloods and half breeds, am I?"

"You oughtn't talk like that," Andromeda said suddenly. "They're people- not some sort of beasts-"

"Don't let Mum hear you talking like that," Bellatrix interrupted with a smug smirk. "She'll scourgify your mouth for sure." Andromeda frowned, and Narcissa imagined that she could see her burning flush, even in the scant moonlight.

Andromeda opened her mouth to argue, but Narcissa darted her hand up to pinch it shut. "Please don't fight," she begged. "Let's just have fun, allright?"

Bellatrix softened. "Allright," she said amiably. She stole a quick look at Andromeda, who prised Narcissa's hand off of her mouth and responded with a small smile of her own before settling back down, her head cushioned by her abundant braid. Her elbow touched Narcissa's and Narcissa's touched Bellatrix' and for a minute, Narcissa fancied that they were like a chain, unbreakable because they were sisters-

"There's Uncle Orion," Andromeda said with a short giggle, pointing up at a clump of stars shining thinly through the fog above.

"He's much nicer looking up there than he is down here," Bellatrix remarked sourly. "I don't know how Aunt Berga does it, being stuck with that nasty-"

"Boring-"

"_Ugly _old man!" Narcissa finished brightly as her sister's dissolved into a bout of hastily stifled giggles. When they had contained themselves, Bellatrix gave a heavy sigh.

"Really, what on earth did she ever see in him-"

"Or him in her?" Andromeda interrupted. "She's nothing to be desired – I feel awful for little Sirius, honest to Merlin, I do."

"You shouldn't," Bellatrix defected, with just a little more than a hint of pride. "He's a Black. No matter how awful they are to him, he'll always have the rest of us to fall back on."

Narcissa frowned to herself. There seemed, she thought, to be a gaping flaw in her sister's logic. "What about Aunt Dorea?" She asked bemusedly. "Auntie Berga blasted her off of the wall-"

"She married that blood traitor Potter," Bellatrix interrupted coolly. "That's different. She and Cousin Cedrella betrayed the family, marrying those filthy Muggle lovers. We couldn't just allow them to continue sullying the Black name, Cissy."

Narcissa couldn't imagine that this was entirely accurate. She had seen Cousin Cedrella and her husband, Septimus Weasley, in Diagon Alley, last August. They had three small boys, all with wild red hair and dirt smudges on their knees and noses. Cedrella had greeted them as they went past, but Mother had swept them all by without a word. Cedrella's husband looked very pleasant, Narcissa thought. There didn't seem to be anything particulary traitorous about him.

"So what you mean to say," Andromeda declared, drawing Narcissa's attention back to the present, "Is that we Black's have only got the Black family, as long as we do what we're told."

"As long as you do what's _proper_," Bellatrix clarified. "Marrying blood traitors is sort of off that list."

Narcissa sighed. "Who cares about being married, anyways?" She demanded blithely, and Bellatrix gave a short sigh of exasperation at the same time that Andromeda hooted with laughter.

"Marriage is _everything,_" Bellatrix answered sternly. "Who you marry determines who you'll be- where you'll stand in the world. It's absolutely, positively _everthing_."

"We're too young to even _think _about marriage-"

"Not so young." Bellatrix winked slyly. "You've got to start preparing now, so that when the time comes, you've got a head start on everyone else."

"Cissy won't need a headstart," Andromeda said bracingly. "She'll have every boy at Hogwarts drooling about her by the end of her first term."

Narcissa flushed. "I wont," she contradicted, and Bellatrix laughed.

"Of course you will," she pressed. "You've taken after Mother's side. Andy and I look too much like Blacks to ever be beautiful."

Narcissa's mouth dropped open. "That's a terrible thing to say about yourself, Bella-"

"Of course it isn't." Bellatrix sat up, tossing her head. "Beauty is nothing, little sister, next to power."

Narcissa eyed her sister uneasily. She didn't think that she particularly liked Bella to speak about power in that way. It didn't seem entirely normal, at her age.

Andromeda must have felt the same way, because she said, " That's utter rubbish, Bella. Marrying shouldn't be about power, or beauty."

"And what should it be about then?" Bellatrix demanded snarkily, and Andromeda sat up, thrusting her chin forward.

"Love," she answered simply, and Bella snorted condescendingly.

"Since when has anyone in our family ever married for _that?"_

"I will," Andromeda growled, and Bellatrix laughed again.

"No you won't," she said dismissvely. "The world does not _love _us Blacks, Andy. They fear us. They side with us because siding against us is simply too dangerous." She shook her head. "There is nothing in the world so stupid as to marry for love. It gets you nowhere. Look at Cedrella- where did it get her? Some grubby little cottage in Ottery St. Catchpole and a gaggle of boys she can't afford to clothe properly. A marriage that wishes to survive shouldn't be based on love, or looks, or age, but on power and blood and the size of one's purse."

Andromeda said nothing. Narcissa watched both of her sisters, wary of another argument. "Father and Mother love each other," she said uncertainly.

"They love what they can do together," Bellatrix corrected. "And they love us, of course. But it isn't as necessary to love each other as it is to intimidate together."

"You won't catch me getting stuck with some nasty second cousin of ours' just because we'd be powerful together!" Andromeda snapped. She stood violently, rocking back on her heels. "And you can argue all you'd like," she told Bellatrix hotly, who had opened her mouth to speak, "And you can bloody blast me off of Auntie Berga's wall yourself, for all I care. I'm not about to spend my eternity miserable on some one else's say so!"

Narcissa grinned at Andromeda, but she didn't think that her sister could see it in the dark. Bellatrix, on the other hand, reached up and grasped ahold of Andromeda's sleeve.

"Don't be silly," She said irritably. "We'd never disown you. It's allright to do that to cousins, or aunts – but sisters? Those are different."

Andromeda was silent. Bellatrix remained, her top half pressed awkwardly over her legs as she clung to her sister. Then, hesitantly, Andromeda smiled.

"I know," she said, and below them, a window banged open.

"If those girls on that bloody roof again-!" Their father's voice floated up , and Bellatrix scrambled to her feet, pulling Narcissa up with her.

"I guess the fun's over," she said gaily, and their father shouted:

"Bellatrix Black! Andromeda- NARCISSA! If any of you are up there-"

"He sounds tickled," Andromeda said, linking her arm through Narcissa's, as Bellatrix led the way over the gabled roof, her hand sweaty in Narcissa's. "Utterly thrilled. He'll be delighted to see us, wouldn't you say, Cissy?" Narcissa laughed and Bellatrix cast her an amused look before sucuumbing to laughter herself.

"Bellatrix Black!" Their father bellowed. Narcissa could see his head poking out of the window as they crossed the last peak. He held a pair of pink ruched slippers in one hand and did not look, contrary to Andromeda's prediction, very tickled at all.

"He really oughtn't make such an awful face," Andromeda whispered devilishly. "It would be a shame if it stuck that way."

Narcissa threw back her head and laughed. They went, all three of them hand in hand, giggling, to their doom.


End file.
